


Faster When You Fall

by ThatwasJustaDream



Series: Caught in a Net [2]
Category: Lost, Supernatural
Genre: Bottom Dean, First Time, M/M, Slash, Teen Dean Winchester, caught in a net
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-13
Updated: 2014-03-01
Packaged: 2018-01-12 04:50:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1182122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThatwasJustaDream/pseuds/ThatwasJustaDream
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The line between hero and anti-hero is especially thin when you're both still young and figuring crap out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Hungry

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Crossover February on the 1_million_words comm on LJ. Story will go from M to E in the second chapter. First installment is from Sawyer's POV, second will be from Dean's and the third from Sam's.

“Good lord, Tigger, quit bouncing,” Sawyer stretched his arms out, pressing his hands into the net that had just dragged him and some local boy a brain-shaking twenty feet in the air. 

That was the disorienting part; swaying tight up against someone he hadn’t known was in the damn barn with him in the first place. Seemed to catch the other guy by surprise, too- he was twisting in their metal-ringed prison, hands searching for the top and not finding it, trying to scale it only to find the loops were too small to get a toe into, too sharp for bare hands.

“C’mon! I’m trying to buy us breathing room and all you’re doin’ is making it worse. Gonna lose my damn lunch if you don’t stop.”

The guy did but wow was he was pissed; almost barking with frustration, gasping short, shallow breaths out of the prettiest mouth Sawyer had seen in forever. 

It was also noticeable how the word ‘lunch’ elicited an actual stomach growl from him. Huh. Hot, young, stuck, hungry; there was much to work with, and it was already half in his arms.

“What are you doing in here, anyway?” Sawyer tried to keep his tone disinterested.

“There are chicken coops and fresh compost piles. I was hunting up some eggs.”

Indeed, there were faint chirps and ‘buc’ sounds below them Sawyer hadn’t noted before.

“What were you up to?” The guy asked back. “I can tell you’re not from around here.”

“Take a sniff,” Sawyer kept scanning the barn for a solution while he waited for a reaction out of him, but none came. “Not a hash smoker, huh? This farm’s growing more than wheat, and if I find a few bricks of it? Sell it? I’m set for the summer. I could use a vacation.”

“Plug your ears,” the guy grumbled.

“Why?”

“I’m gonna yell for help….” 

Sawyer started to point out it might not be the best strategy, but he was too late. 

“Sa _aAAAAmm_ my! Get in here! SaaAAAAAMMMM, c’mON!!”

“Awwww…… _fuck_! Will you stop that, and give us both a second to think, here? Who’s Sam?” 

“My kid brother. He’s waiting in our car.”

“Stealing eggs to feed baby brother? That’s….touching. I _should_ be getting all misty right about……”

“Screw you.” 

“That an offer?”

He gave the guy a leer in return for the show of sass, but then his companion started to suck in another deep breath to scream again and Sawyer reached and wrapped a hand around the front of his neck, squeezing.

“Stop it! It’s about to be dawn - the owners are probably on the way out here and you’re only gonna make ‘em show up that much faster. We’ll get beaten, or worse - know why? ‘Cause you can’t land the first _punch_ when you’re _caught_ in a _net_!”

“How else are we supposed to..…”

“Maybe your brother will get worried and come our way before they do. But you ain’t helping our odds.”

Sawyer felt him slump in acknowledgment more than defeat, and he took the quiet moment that followed to look him up and down. The guy really was remarkable; young, long lashes on sea green eyes, a day’s stubble on his jaw that would feel just right against his lips. He possessed an exceptionally kissable, fuckable mouth, too, and a tall, lean body. 

A long string of scams that didn’t involve getting naked had him feeling physically needy; a warm hum of achy excitement was already stirring at the picture of this one under him, screwing him back for all he was worth.

“What’s your name, kid?”

“Dean Winchester. And I’m probably only a few years younger than….”

“You eighteen yet?”

“Yeah. Why?”

“’Cause whatever happens, Deannie Dub, we are stuck here for a bit,” he let that settle for a beat and pulled out his silkiest voice. “Maybe we make the time mutually profitable? You let me take inventory of your mouth with my tongue… and I buy you and baby brother breakfast once we’re down. A nice place, too; no McDonald’s crap.”

“Do I look like a whore to you?”

“Didn’t suggest you did. Shit, it’s a kiss, boy. Not like I asked you to blow me.”

“Why should I trust you? And in what world is tonsil hockey worth two good meals, anyway?”

“Oh, that’s … _sad_ ,” Sawyer shifted, engaging Dean’s eyes. “Your mouth? The perfect bow on your top lip? And the lower one—it’s practically begging to be chewed on. A kiss from you's worth more like a three course dinner. That said, I have an oral fixation – so keep in mind your value may vary.” 

At least that got a dark, amused snort from the guy. Sawyer enjoyed the sound of it and the way Dean’s lip curled. 

“Don’t say you’re not interested; I can feel you are. And the offer expires in ten seconds.”

It should have been heart wrenching, the way Dean was obviously picturing food in his head as he leaned in to kiss him. Would have been heart wrenching, if Sawyer hadn’t lost all sympathy for others in his years alone on the road. 

Besides, he felt as good as he looked – his kiss wet and strong and so full of pure hormonal _need_. The way that tongue flicked and stroked and gave as good as it got? Sawyer shifted to lean up over him – the better to match him, to give him a tongue-fucking back, and now they were swinging again; this time because Dean was twisting against him, hands finding Sawyer’s hips, running around behind to cup his ass and pull him closer and … _shit_.

“Tongue out,” he ordered when they came up for air. Dean obliged and Sawyer teased it with flicks from his own, sucking it, fellating it. The kid moaned out loud and attacked him, kissing back twice as hard as before, making long, needy sounds into Sawyer’s mouth.

It felt like the barn was shrinking around them, the air heavy and humid and close.

He wasn’t about to break his word and push him too far, but that didn’t mean Sawyer wasn’t loving the way Dean was grinding against him. His hands found Sawyer’s hair, tugging, one leaving to pull apart his shirt, fumbling for the zipper on his jeans and….

“Dean?” A high, thin, sweet voice called out. 

It was like a bucket of ice water. They stopped, still leaning into each other, Dean panting like he’d just sprinted a quarter mile and Sawyer sighing with disappointment, buttoning up.

“Where are you?”

“Up …up here, Sam.”

“What the… how are you … who is…”

“Later,” Dean cut him off. “Need you to look for the rope hanging from this contraption.”

“Yeah…” they could hear him scooting under them and then past them toward the far wall. “There’s a wheel. It’s winding around it. And a lever…”

“Don’t flip the lever ‘til you find a handle on the wheel …” Sawyer tried to say it hard enough to get his attention and kind enough not to scare him.

“Okay.”

“And make sure you have a good, tight grip. Kick the lever with a foot or maybe even brace your back against the wheel; ‘cause if you let that handle fly … we are not walking away in one piece. Understand?”

“Aw… hell.”

“Language, Sammy,” Dean said, jerking his head around when Sawyer snickered. “What?”

“Skinny like he is… we’ll be lucky if that wheel don’t fling him half way to the highway. And you’re worried about a little cussing?”

~*~

They both lost their breath when the net started to fall, whooped with relief when it slowed again. Sam dropped them eventually but he held on ‘til they were a yard and a half off the barn floor. 

Sawyer even found the stash.

~*~

“Let me guess,” He sat across from the brothers in the diner booth, his eyes on Sam as Sam flipped through a paperback and demolished a plate of pancakes with fried egg and syrup on top. “Mom’s been out of the picture a while, and dad’s MIA now, too. Right?”

“Long story,” Free breakfast or not, Dean wasn’t sharing. “What do you care?”

He was eating more decorously than Sam, but still with great enthusiasm – Sawyer guessed they’d been surviving on stolen cans of soup and day old bread for some time. 

He knew what that looked like.

“I don’t care, particularly. But I got one weakness,” he glanced at Sam again. “Motherless boys with deadbeat dads.”

“Keep your pity. Our dad’s not a deadbeat. He …must have gotten caught up in a job. He’s late coming back, but… he will.”

“How late?”

“Eight days.”

“And he left you two home alone, no money for food, no…”

“We’re not home. We’re not from Missouri, we’re… just here.”

“Staying in a motel?”

“Until a couple of days ago. That’s when he paid through.”

“So you’re driving around, sleeping in your car, scrounging food, waiting on him to show back up? What if he don’t come back ever?”

“We’ve got other family,” Dean said it reluctantly, like he couldn’t figure why he was telling the guy all this. “If I get down to our last quarter… I’ll use it to call them.”

“Not ‘til then, huh? Too much pride? Good for you. It’s worth having- and keeping.”

“Can I get some more?” Sam chimed in, fork still in one hand and book still in the other.

“Geez,” Sawyer looked at Sam’s plate. “You lick that thing clean, hoss? Looks like it’s been through the dishwasher already.”

Sam gave a nose wrinkle and a shrug. If he was following the conversation, there was no sign. 

“How about you go get the waitress? Ask her to come over. We’ll order round two.”

Dean had been watching Sawyer’s face the last few sentences, and seeing an idea take shape. He felt his own jaw clenching, and barely waited until Sam was out of earshot to respond to it.

“I told you once, and next time I say it with a right hook: I’m not a whore.”

“Get your ears down from your shoulders. We can part ways if that’s what you want – but I’m leaving you with gas and food money,” Sawyer nodded toward where Sam was waiting at the counter. “Doin’ it for him not you, and it’s non-negotiable. But if you come with me, and we hook up? I’ll take care of you, too - make sure you’ve both got a roof and a lock on the door and food to eat while you keep at your ‘Driving for Daddy’ mission. Can teach you a thing or ten in bed, too.”

“I've never… I’m not….”

“Forget about what you ‘haven’t’ yet. What do you want? And please keep in mind – I was up there with you. So the question is purely rhetorical. ‘Cause I know the answer already.”

He gave him a nudge under the table as Dean’s face flushed.

“Swear I won’t hurt you. I’m an opportunist but… I’m no monster.”

Sawyer noticed how Dean sank into the booth at that, laughing – God only knew why. He stopped there; he’d made his pitch, and now he watched Dean wrestle with a decision.

“Sam can’t know anything,” he said eventually. Nothing in front of him, or I swear…”

“’Course not. I’ll get my own room and one for you two at a family kind of hotel. We set him up by the pool with a stack of books and a cooler full of Cokes and snacks? He’ll be the mayor of the Econolodge.”

Sam was back, a waitress in tow, smiling at him and the enthusiasm with which he ordered a grilled cheese and fries and a fruit plate.

“Okay,” Dean murmured it, low enough to make sure only Sawyer heard. Then he looked away from the warm smile of anticipation breaking on the face across from him.

“You two boys want anything more?” The waitress asked.

“Nothing for me, thanks,” Sawyer drawled, watching Dean go even pinker. “I am all set.”


	2. First Lust

Dean fought it but the shaky words and sounds he was pushing down pushed back harder and came rolling out of his mouth.

“Ohh…..yeaa _aaaaa_ hhh….fuuuck, ye _sssssssss_ ….”

Traitorous rat bastards.

“Mmm _mmmm_ mmmm….”

He let his eyes close, head falling forward. He felt vaguely ashamed; guessed he’d be full-on red in the face with it if he had the bandwidth. But all he could really focus on was the cock he kept lifting himself off of and sinking back onto over and over, and the hand not his own expertly stroking his dick, the palm and fingers touching him hot from friction and slick with lube.

He was riding Sawyer, who was propped half up against the headboard – all the pillows behind him, other hand squeezing Dean’s right ass cheek hard and rhythmically, urging him on as Sawyer bucked slow and lazy, heels digging into the mattress, fucking him him back.

His eyes were half closed but fixed on Dean, like he was reading his every flinch and jolt and twist. He got the same face on him every time they sucked or screwed; blue eyes hard, like this was a ritual that mattered to him whole a lot. 

He wasn’t affectionate and that was a relief – Dean knew he wouldn’t have a clue what the hell to do with that. But them fucking? It was way more …personal than he’d expected. Like his pleasure made up at least half of Sawyer’s. 

So the embarrassment? Turned out it wasn’t about being mindlessly used. It was about being seen – fully. Being so blatantly _wanted_.

Sawyer was quiet, mostly. He hadn’t given up anything this session but a long, soft ‘daam _mnnnn_ ,’ his body rippling off the mattress as Dean lined up and took him into his well-prepped hole. So the woozy, sex-hazed words Dean heard slurred out next were a surprise.

“Sweet _Jesus_ … I wanna flip you over… fuckin’ _drill_ you. Can I? I’ll stop if you say, I swear, won’t hurt you, but… I …. _need_ to screw that sweet ass of yours hard….”

He did blush then, dizzy not just from the filthy, urgent edge in Sawyer’s voice, but because he leaned in right after them to capture and bite and suckle his nipple, to run wet kisses over his chest and slap his ass hard. It stung, and then it started a tingling web of ‘I’m gonna come’ running all through him; his balls tight, his cock aching with it.

He rode him harder, faster, hips flicking, almost out of breath, more sounds emerging out of his control, and….

Lust. This is what lust felt like. Sounded like.

“Hell, yeah. Yessss….”

He didn’t have to say it twice; Sawyer had him off his lap and flat on his stomach in under three seconds; was back in him and giving him slow, deep strokes, working him back up the ladder to oblivion.

“Can you take care of yourself?” Sawyer leaned in low, murmuring it in his ear. “Get off for me, baby boy?” 

Dean nodded and shifted up a little more on his knees. His hand found his own cock and then Sawyer was gone, hips snapping, body heavy against Dean’s back, an arm under him. The other reached to brace himself with the headboard. 

Sawyer was grunting with every thrust, biting off clipped curse words. Both of them were sweating, shaking, the head of the mattress hitting the wall with dull thunks.

The phrase ‘hurts so good’ always sounded like bullshit to Dean but this did; being filled past what he thought he could take, bearing down hard every time Sawyer pulled out and then relaxing, opening for him again. Then Sawyer found the spot that sent fireworks from his brain all the way through his thighs and nailed it over and over and….

He came harder than he knew was possible; seizing up, sucking in air to shout out loud.

Sawyer wasn’t far behind him, groaning Dean’s name, and that …

No one had ever come with his name on their lips before.

~*~

“Good thing I’m about done selling my stash,” They were clean but still in the shower when Sawyer said it, lips rubbing against Dean’s jaw. “I could get hooked. Nothing sweeter than a big, hot guy turning out to be a Triple A catcher headed for the majors.”

“Do you sell drugs a lot?” Dean tilted his head back, and let Sawyer keep grazing. 

“No. Only a couple times a year when the opportunity arises. Never anything harder than pot and hash. ‘S no worse for you than bourbon, in my opinion, and it’s fast cash, Dub. Whereas the other money I make? That don’t come easy.”

“What other kinds of things do you… you know… do? You rip off old people? Take their insurance money? You split up marriages? How do you… how can you…”

“Yeah, there’s another sign it’s time to go…” Sawyer’s voice stayed even but he flipped the taps off and grabbed a towel, handing Dean the other one. “Don’t try to save me, all right? Not all of us have family to lean on. Some of us had dads that make yours look like PTA material and monsters of our own to chase. Human ones, but…still monsters.”

“I’m not being a Boy Scout, Sawyer. But you have to know that sooner or later you’re going to jail. Or prison.”

“Maybe. And if it comes I’ll deal with it. Nothing’s getting me down, Tigger, don’t worry your gorgeous head. Besides, if one quarter of half the stories you’ve told me about your life are true you’d better spend your energy worrying about you.”

It was hard to argue with that.

“C’mon,” He watched Sawyer strut toward the bedroom, towel knotted around him. “I need a smoke. Let’s go collect young Sam from poolside, and get ourselves some dinner.”

~*~

“Twelve letter word for ‘dew.’” Sam said.

“Got any of the spaces figured out yet?” Sawyer leaned back in the booth, arm going over the top of it behind Sam.

“Yeah. There’s an ‘N’ in the third place and an ‘S’ in the seventh.”

“Okay. I got it. But I’m not telling you. Well… I’m not telling you unless you take so long it pisses the hell out of me.”

Dean watched from across the table – Sam hunched over his word puzzle book, Sawyer loose from the afternoon fuck and his second beer. 

Sawyer looked happy. Hell, he was even happy. Well… content, maybe.

“I don’t know…” Sam said it like he was buying time. 

“You’ve so got this. Think: Dew was vapor, first. What did it do to get there?”

“Condensation.” Sam mock-knocked his head on the table and then filled in the spaces just as Sawyer caught Dean watching them.

“You all right?” Sawyer asked.

“Yeah, I’m good.”

It had been six days. Most mornings they went their separate ways – Sawyer on his sales effort and Dean driving Sam the forty miles back to the town where John had left them. They’d hit all the obvious spots- train station first stop, diners and the motel they’d last stayed in. Still…. 

“No sign, huh?” Sawyer asked over Sam’s head.

“Nothing.”

“No worries. I’ll head out in the AM, but I’ve already pre-paid your room for another week. If it goes past that and he still don’t show up, well…”

Dean nodded.

“Will it be a while before dinner comes?” Sam asked out of nowhere. “Because Miranda and Jeff’s family are in the playground across the parking lot….”

“Go.” Dean said and Sam was gone. 

He practically kicked up dust on the tile floor.

“He’ll be okay,” Sawyer said. 

“He tried to run away last year. He did run away. This week… you were right about it. He’s having a freaking blast; he’s got friends and time to chill, to play…. and now I’m gonna tear him away from that. Or dad will, and…”

“He’ll be fine. Yeah, he’s having fun but… he’s smart. He knows fun comes and goes. And he knows what he’s got in you.”

“I’m not sure what you think you’re seeing, but…”

“Seeing what you can’t. ‘Cause you’re too close. Trust me, Dean; I read people for a living.”

Dean gave him the barest of nods, and it felt like a major concession letting someone tell him how to think about anything. He could tell Sawyer appreciated it - his face stayed even, but his eyes, they lit up a few degrees with something like amusement and appreciation mixed together.

“How about we spend some of my ill-gotten gains on dessert after dinner…” Sawyer leaned in, a forearm going against the table as he reached in to kiss him fast and light. “And then we head back and I perform a nasty, nasty thank you for that ride you….”

Dean knew Sawyer pulled back right then, lost the sex eyes and the ‘just us’ casual lean because he’d seen Dean’s eyes shoot wide open, scared. Timing being everything and Sawyer having the reflexes of a cat… he’d pulled it off. Barely.

“Let me guess,” Sawyer was back to the booth, his body position entirely neutral and head nodding casually back toward the door where the man who had just entered was walking their way. “Daddy’s home. Right?”

“Yeah.”

“Aw, hell. Few hours later might have been nice.” Sawyer said, and Dean wanted to tell him to shut up, to cut it out, but he knew it might be the last he heard it – that voice aimed only at him. “Too bad we didn’t get a story ironed out first. Follow my lead, kid.”

Dean caught the cold anger in John’s eyes from ten feet away and he hoped the smile of happy surprise he tried to pull off looked genuine. 

“Where the hell is Sam?” John asked Dean, but his eyes were on Sawyer.

“Good to see you, dad,” Dean braved an ear cuffing by putting an edge into the words. “Glad you’re back. Been looking for you….”


	3. Beautiful Losers

“Say it. Right _now_ , say it….”

Sam was just far enough away that he could barely hear the gritted-out words Sawyer was muttering.

He’d been looking for the two of them for the past ten minutes; found them behind the shed, just past the pool – the one that held the cleaning chemicals and the extra pool toys and…

“I will take care of myself,” he heard Dean recite it in response to Sawyer’s demand, his brother’s voice tight. “As much as I do anybody else.”

“There you go. Was that so hard?”

“Now you,” Dean said, not giving any ground when Sawyer gave him a ‘fuck you’ push. “C’mon. Now you.”

“I will think about it,” Sawyer wasn’t giving quite as much. “That’s all I can promise you. I swear I’ll think about it, and see how the road takes me. Okay? Now c’mon, let’s skedaddle before your dad shows up and kicks us both to damn death…”

Sam can see Sawyer would have walked away, then, except Dean stops him, hand catching Sawyer’s arm and pulling him in and….

It should be barf-worthy, watching his brother conducting a deep-dive for another guy’s tonsils but he can only feel….hopeful for him. 

“Sam?!” 

John’s voice; from fifty yards back in the parking lot. Sam tried not to run so fast he’d be out of breath when he got there.

“What are you doing?”

“Looking for my friends,” Sam said. “To say goodbye. But I think they’re at breakfast….”

“Oh,” he watched his father wrestle with the desire to get the hell on the road and the knowledge he’d left them both stranded nearly two solid weeks. “Well, maybe you’ll bump into ‘em before we head. Almost packed. Can you go get your stuff?”

“Yes.”

“Seen your brother?”

“He went to the hotel office,” Sam lied. “I think he was looking to buy some cans of Coke for the trip.”

He only knew for sure he’d said it loud enough when Dean showed up ten minutes later with a bag full of cans in a small garbage bag full of ice. 

“Is there any remaining business you have here?” John asked Dean in a tone that made Sam shrink and walk away from them, toward the car. 

He knew the only reason Dean could still walk this morning was that John almost entirely bought it; the story that Sawyer had loaned them cash for a room in exchange for fifteen percent on the money he’d invested. The fact that John and Sawyer had gone to the hotel office to get exact figures and that Sawyer had made some actual cash on the deal? Sam didn’t want to think about that, even though it didn’t seem to matter to Dean.

“No, sir,” Sam heard his brother say on the way to the car, tossing the bag back on the floor next to Sam’s feet before he got in front. “I’m good to go.”

~*~

“Was Sawyer your boyfriend?”

Sam waited that night until John was snoring very hard to ask it.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Dean pushed him almost out of their bed onto the floor. “No. Bitch.”

Sam bit off his usual response, and breathed deep.

“I’m going to miss him,” he said, instead.

“Yeah? And why the hell’s that?”

“He talked to me like a person,” Sam knew it wasn’t going to be enough, and searched for the rest of the sentence that was forming in his brain. “He was funny and smart, and he called me Samwise and… other nicknames and….I don’t know. He was just different. From us.”

“Go to sleep.”

“What did you ask him? To say back? Behind the pool?”

Sam was sure he was going to pay physically for the question but Dean never moved. 

“Asked him to give up the extra _crappy_ with a side of _illegal_ shit he does on a regular basis,” Dean muttered. “He’s hurt a lot of folks, Sam. He’s not who you think he is.”

There was no way to explain to Dean that he’d already understood that and didn’t care either.

Sam dreamed about that week; the pool, the diners, his friends, for years to come.

~*~

“Woah…” 

“What?” 

Dean asked it idly, but Sam was so riveted to the newspaper in his hands that he barely heard it, had to shake himself before he could respond.

“Did Sawyer ever tell you his full name?

“Who?”

Okay, it had been over seven years – he could give Dean that. But …bullshit. Not to mention they were on their own again, just like then, searching for their dad who was missing once again and…. _no_ , just bullshit.

“C’mon, Dean…”

“No, he did not tell me his full name. Why the hell are you asking me this now?”

Sam pushed the paper his brother’s way and watched him take it in; the photo spread about the crash of a jetliner over the Pacific. The row after row of images of the missing and presumed dead. Sawyer's picture was there, in between the picture of the young woman with a face full of freckles and the man with dark eyes and a determined frown. The photos were all the same size, but his looked a foot tall, it was so clearly…him.

“James…Ford,” Dean read. “From Tennessee, apparently.”

“It says he was a convicted felon.”

“No shit,” Dean huffed. “Shocker, huh?”

“Doesn’t it bother you that… jeez, Dean, he… died.”

“Want anything at the store?” Sam watched, fighting to keep his mouth from popping open as Dean searched up his keys and…. left. “I’ll pick up dinner. Some beers. What else?”

Sam gave him a short list of stuff, then sat back on his bed with the paper in his lap once the door slammed.

They’d both done a pretty piss-poor job with their promises, apparently, Sawyer and Dean.

He just hoped whatever happened on that plane, Sawyer hadn’t felt it much. And that if anyone had the nuts to care about his brother again, it would turn out to be someone very, very patient - because they were going to need a ton of it.

 

~fin~


End file.
